Chicken Soup
by Lone Butterfly
Summary: Even the toughest CSI can get a little sick. Sniffle Sniffle [GSR]


Disclaimer: I, along with everyone else who writes here, do not own CSI. Sorry for the disappointment.

**A/N:** My first fanfic ever. Thanks for reading! I have no beta...where do you find betas anyway? I checked Wal-Mart and there weren't any:) All mistakes are mine.

CSICSICSI

It was triggered by soup. Chicken Soup to be exact.

He didn't know why he thought that if it ever happened it would be over a dramatic incident. A huge crisis that would change his whole way of thinking. Instead, poultry became his catalyst.

Grissom hated to be sick. Most of the time he wouldn't even admit it to himself, going about his life instead, and ignoring the sniffles that plagued him. Migraines could keep him in the house, but anything else was just an inconvenience. He couldn't fathom how he had lost the argument with Catherine, and was now at home, alone, sick with a severe cold.

So lying in bed, a box of tissues rapidly growing empty, he realized he wanted a bowl of soup. A hot bowl of chicken Soup. He also realized he didn't want to get out of bed and make it himself. He stared up at the ceiling and pondered using up all his energy to go to the kitchen and make soup, while the other half of his brain told him to stay in bed and sleep. Reaching over to get a tissue, he decided what he really wanted was someone else to make his soup. Someone who would bring him medicine and crackers with the soup. Someone who would make him feel better by sitting on the bed next to him and helping him with his crossword puzzle. Someone who felt comfortable enough to just watch him sleep when he dozed off from the medication.

Someone who would pad around his townhouse like it was her own, rinsing the dishes and restocking the fridge. Someone who would wash the laundry and then fix him a small sandwich before getting dressed to go to work herself. Someone who would call him throughout the night to make sure he was feeling okay, and if he needed anything, then would stop at the store after work to buy him the fruit that he wanted. Someone who would wake him out of his sleep by kissing him on the forehead and snuggling up behind him, even though he was still running a slight fever. Someone he would drift back into his dreams holding in his arms. Someone unafraid to be close to him.

Everyone seemed afraid to be close to him, or maybe he was afraid to let anyone close to him. His foggy mind tried to wrap itself around the dilemma, and came upon a surprisingly accurate conclusion. This was all his fault. He felt pretty certain there was a time when he could have let her in to his life, and they would have grown to the point where she would be calling him to check on him. And picking up fruit from the store. And making him chicken soup, even if she didn't want to eat any herself. She would have loved him enough to want to take care of him when he was sick. Yep, he was his fault. For the first time, being alone didn't feel so right, it felt….lonely.

He used the last bit of strength he swallowed two pills and drank a bit of water before falling asleep, praying he would feel better when he woke up.

CSICSICSI

Grissom walked into the breakroom two nights later and looked around. Catherine, Warrick, and Nick sat waiting for assignments, chatting among themselves. Greg was pouring the last of the coffee into his cup with one hand, and pouring in sugar with the other.

"Where's Sara?" he asked, flipping through his papers.

"Out sick, she called last night, really bad cold, can't even get out of bed." Catherine replied, not even looking away from Nick and Warrick.

"Has anyone checked on her?"

Catherine clucked her tongue and frowned. "Since when did you think about checking on someone who was sick? And of course we've called her."

Nick and Warrick nodded in agreement while Greg tried to explain, in between sips of Blue Hawaiian, the groggy "I'm going to be okay" response he had gotten when he had called her that morning.

"She'll be back in a few days. Sara's most likely got the same thing you had, especially since you were sneezing all over us the night before you left."

"Yeah, Bug Boss, this is really _your_ fault."

"Greg, your humor is wasted on me," Grissom muttered. "Warrick, Catherine, you have a DB at the Bellagio, take Greg with you. Nick, you have a B&E at a gas station."

"And what do _you_ have Bug Boss?" Greg wiggled his eyebrows, causing Nick to give a very unmanly giggle and snort into his coffee.

"Greg…"

"Leaving, leaving, following orders."

The group exited the breakroom, leaving Grissom behind listening to their voices fade down the hall. He pondered the pile of paperwork that was no doubt beginning to take over his desk, and made his decision.

CSICSICSI

She opened the door after the third knock, stumbling over her own slippers. Her fumbling with the lock and snuffled calls of "Who id it?" made him a tad nervous. When the door swung open they both stared at each other in silence.

She was wearing scruffy black sweatpants, with paint streaks, furry slippers, and a black tank top. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. A well-worn blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. Her nose was about as red as Rudolph's from all the sneezing she had been doing.

"Gridom?" She finally asked.

"Sara."

"Why are you ear? Ad tree o'clock in da mornin?"

"I brought soup. Vegetable soup."

Managing a small smile, she backed away from the entrance and let him in. Closing the door behind him, she chuckled softly as she thought about how just a bit earlier she had been lying on her sofa wishing she had someone to make her soup. Vegetable soup.


End file.
